


Starstrand

by Carter_Ash_Official



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Ash_Official/pseuds/Carter_Ash_Official
Summary: Retelling of The Arcana visual novel with added scenes and character development





	1. In Which Emmie is Thrown Into a Messy Mystery

“I’ll miss you.”

Emmie frowned down at a smudge on the glass counter, wiping at it with the corner of her shawl. “Mm-hm.”

“Emmie.”

“Hm?” There was another smear further down. Probably from Charlie; he touched everything he could and never listened to when she told him not to do something. Moreover, telling him not to do something made him want to do it even more.

She got that smudge and sighed at another, this one an entire handprint on the window.

“Emmie,” he repeated.

“Hang on, Charlie- He- There’s a handprint on the window.”

Outside the window was empty blackness. Now, logically, it wasn’t actually empty; the streets were filled with fog. But it was the night of a new moon and no moonlight lit up the teeny little yard jammed behind the shop, so it looked empty-

The darkness reminded her of why Asra was trying to get her attention. The middle of a moonless night was, in his opinion, the best time to begin a journey.

Emmie straightened up and gave her master an apologetic smile. “Yes?”

“I’ll miss you.” He had his travel vest on, and a thick scarf draped around his shoulders. It was almost long enough to trail on the floor if he didn’t wrap it around himself. In one hand he clutched his hat; a horrid assembly of odd feathers and mismatched bands.

But it all suited him. Fortune-teller and Magician; by default it was expected for him to have some rather unique choices in clothing. No magician got by while dressed like a banker apprentice in shiny leather shoes and a drab uniform.

“Here…” He hesitated with a small package in his vest pocket before placing it on the smudge-free counter. “Take this. For you to play around with while I’m gone.”

Emmie eyed it curiously. The package was humming with magical energy. Specifically, his magical energy. Last time she’d gotten anything with his presence imprinted on it, it’d been a hand-crafted chalk box.

“Go on, open it.” Asra nodded encouragingly at her from under his mop of white hair.

She carefully picked at the wrapping, not wanting to ruin the paper. It looked like-

“My Tarot deck.”

“You think I’m ready, Master?” She trailed her fingers over the carefully painted cards, listening to them sing to her. At his silence, Emmie looked up.

Asra’s sigh at the name was barely audible. “You still call me that…”

“I _am_ your apprentice.”

He shook his head, smile returning. “You know I can’t answer if you’re ready or not. You’ve made incredible progress, but you still won’t let go of your doubt.”

Emmie didn’t look away from his gaze. “I… What if I’m wrong?”

“What if you’re right?”

“Stop answering the questions with other questions.” She couldn’t hide her own smile. He always answered with questions. Getting him to stop would be like teaching an elephant to fly; impossible, yet the concept entertaining enough to keep trying.

Asra pushed the cards towards her. “Do you think you’re ready?”

She wasn’t giving up that easily. “Why don’t you ever answer my questions?”

“I don’t?” He knew he was being difficult; but after a beat the subtle smugness faded from his expression. “Well, I might not have all the answers you seek, but…” He poked the deck. “The cards do. If you know how to use them.” His voice turned soft. “And you do know how to use them, whether you believe it or not.”

_Maybe. I don’t know._

Emmie wanted to pick up the deck, but that would be agreeing to take them while he was away. She frowned as he- “Oh, no, Master-”

“Let’s see how well you’ve learned.” He’d pulled back the curtain to the private reading room. “It’ been a while since we’ve practiced.”

“Because you’re always gone?” Emmie clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry, I’m tired. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He didn’t look insulted; if anything, Asra looked amused. “Well, I’m here now. Let’s see how powerful you’ve become.”

_I have to pick up the cards._

Emmie gritted her teeth in resignation and carefully picked up the deck. He held open the curtain for her as she ducked under his arm. She sat in his usual chair, deciding it was weird to be on this side of the reading. And she decided that the chair was deceptively comfortable. It looked over-stuffed and stiff, but it was perfectly plush and the high arms were at the perfect height for her to rest her elbows on.

Something curled around her ankle, twisting her stocking slightly.

“We’re not alone,” Asra said. He twisted to look under the table. In any other instance, the words would have been ominous, but the creature winding around the room was as fearsome as a stuffed plushie.

Emmie started shuffling the deck. “Hello, Faust.”

The snake’s purple-and-blue head appeared over the edge of the table, tongue flicking out. Her thoughts appeared in Emmie’s mind.

**_Friend!!!_ **

Arsa rubbed his familiar’s head affectionately. “Now, if we’re all here, let’s begin.”

She spread the cards out across the table in an arc.

He paused before selecting one just shy of being in the middle. Asra flipped it over to expose the face.

“The High Priestess.”

Using one finger, he moved the card around the others to face her. “And what is she telling you?” He leaned in, watching her closely. “Is she speaking to you now?”

Emmie picked up the card, staring at into the eyes. “You’ve forsaken her.” The words spilled from her mouth before she could even process them.

He leaned back, eyebrows disappearing into his hair. “I have?”

“Yes.” She blinked,breaking the spell between her and the card. “You’ve pushed her away, and buried her voice. She calls out to you, but you won’t listen.” Dread skittered up her spine. “Master, if you don’t listen to her…” Emmie didn’t know the specifics, but the warning coming from the card was strong.

Asra stared through the table, lost in thought. He was chewing on his bottom lip, a tell-tale sign that he was thinking of something that he didn’t particularly didn’t want to. “I-”

A knock on the shop door broke the moment.

Emmie looked up sharply. No one was out and about at this out. No one respectable, at least. Even if it was a customer… what could they possibly need at this hour?

“Did you forget to put out the lantern again?” Even if the smile wasn’t on his face, it was in his voice.

“No, I remember putting it out. It was foggier than usual.” She followed him back into the main room, drawing her shawl about herself. “I can handle this.”

“Just as well.” Asra wrapped his scarf around his neck and settled his fashion-challenged hat on his head. “I can’t stay any longer.” He picked up the packed satchel next to the counter. “Well then… take care of yourself, Emmie.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but was hesitating. Whatever it was, he must’ve decided against it, because he nodded and headed to the back door. “Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye.” She locked the door behind him before fixing the shop door with a stern frown.

Whoever was there rapped again impatiently.

“It’s not polite to call at such a late hour,” Emmie muttered under her breath. She went up on her toes to look through the peephole.

* * *

 

She knocked again.

_Answer. Please._

Nadia smiled at the flicker behind the little glass lense set in the door. Someone was home, and they were seeing who it was that was knocking.

And then-

Nothing.

She raised her hand to knock again just as the door was swung open, revealing the-

_You… Oh, thank heavens._

A mousy little woman, with curls escaping a mismatched collection of ribbons and tired braids, hovered half-behind the opened door. She would have looked timid if it weren’t for the irritation flashing in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what time-”

She didn’t have time for this. Nadia strode into the shop, undoing the shawl hiding her identity. “Forgive me for the late hour, but I will not suffer another sleepless night.” She turned, staring down at the girl. “Please, read the cards for me.”

Recognition made the girl’s eyes huge. “I’m just Asra’s apprentice-”

“It has to be you.”

_The dreams said so._

Her head was moving back and forth slowly as she fumbled for the doorknob, ready to re-open it. “You’ve come to the wrong place, My Lady.”

_I don’t have time for this._

Nadia flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked imperiously down her nose. “Save your breath, Magician. This is the place. I know it. I’ve seen it before.”

The hanging lanterns, the herbs bundled together in neat little baskets behind the counter. Smells that she could only dream of identifying. Even the odd little spiky plant in a windowsill looked identical.

She peering through the glass countertop, seeing crystals and other things she couldn’t identify. “These wall, these ware…” Nadia turned back to the girl. “And you. Though you were no liar in my dream.”

“Dream?” the girl repeated.

“Yes. And unwelcome ability I have some to possess. My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold. But the future I saw, the one that brought my to you…” She trailed off, the memories of what she seen silencing her. A quick shake of the head sent them back to the corners of her mind. “It is not one I will allow to pass. Tell me, Magician. Will you hear my proposal?”

The girl’s shock that the Countess of Vesuvia was standing in the middle of her shop had finally started to wear off. She looked like her wits were returning to her as she opened her mouth to speak again. “Proposal?”

Nadia forced herself to not roll her eyes. Clearly the girl’s mind was not the fastest at processing information. She plastered on an amused smile. “Not very talkative, are you? Nervous, perhaps?”

“No.”

_You couldn’t lie to save your own life. You’re nervous._

“You needn’t be. I require very little of you.” Nadia studied her, mind already spinning up ideas. “Be my guest at the palace for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. It is as my dreams foretold. I ask that you only bring your skill, and the arcana.”

The girl, Nadia would have to learn her name, had gone back to having saucers for eyes. “I- I am at your service, Countess.” She dropped into a hasty curtsy.

_Well, one less thing to worry about._

Nadia let a real smile play across her face. “You have chosen wisely, magician. I will alert the guard to expect you tomorrow. What name should I give them?”

“Oh, um… Emmie, Countess. I’m Emmie.” She played with a loose string on her rather worn shawl.

“Before I leave…” Nadia looked around the shop until she spied the familiar curtains. “I want to see these talents of yours for myself. Shall we do a reading?”

Emmie nodded silently and opened the curtains for her.

The cards were already spread out in an arc. She looked around the room as she sat, taking in the bright pillows and beaded curtains hanging on the walls. The little stool was humble, but comfortable.

Emmie sat across from and gathered the cards back up, shuffling them expertly. She spread them back out into an arc, gesturing for her to take one.

Nadia selected the one closest to her and handed it to the girl.

She flipped it over for them both to see. “The Magician,” she said softly.

“How appropriate.” Nadia leaned in closer, studying the fox’s face. It looked… She’d seen it before, somewhere. Not in a dream, no, someplace-

Lucio’s painting in the private dining room.

There was a fox in it that look uncannily like the one on the card.

She turned her gaze back to the Magician’s apprentice. “And what does he hold for me?”

Emmie’s eyebrows knit together as she tilted her head. “You have a plan.”

“Go on.”

“One that’s long in the making. Years upon years.” She fell silent for a beat. “Now, you seek to set it in motion.”

Nadia found herself leaning forward slightly. “And? Should I move?”

“Yes.”

She released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

Emmie wasn’t done. “Act now. Everything has fallen into place.”

“Say no more.” She had to get back to the palace and start working on getting everything started; informing the servants, sending letters to her sisters, discuss-

The list went on and on.

Nadia pushed aside the curtain and returned to the main room, unfolding her shawl. “Your fortunes are simple. Much the same as others I’ve heard.” She glanced at Emmie standing in the backroom’s doorway, looking vaguely hurt at Nadia’s words.

_You’re going to need thicker skin._

“And yet…” she continued. “You are the first to pique my interest.” Nadia wound her shawl back around her head, pinning it in place. It was time to return to the palace. She paused, eyeing the door. “Ahem.”

Emmie shot across the shop to unlatch the door. “Countess.” She dropping into another curtsy as she opened the door.

“Until tomorrow, then. Pleasant dreams.” She stepped into the fog and heard the shop door shut behind her. Nadia gathered her skirts about her and set off towards her carriage.

* * *

 

The Countess.

The actual Countess. Had been in the shop.

Emmie spun in a circle, taking in the shop in mild horror. There were still some smudges on the counter from Charlie, the top tier of shelves desperately needed to be dusted, and the incense had long since gone out. There was even-

_Oh, Faust._

One of the snake’s shed skins was behind a jar of pickled peaches.

A cold breeze over her ankles had her shivering.

_And it’s drafty. Asra must’ve left the door open-_

Emmie paused at the back door. Hadn’t she locked it behind him? She shook her head as she closed it again, this time making sure to secure the lock. Perhaps he’d forgotten something and snuck back in quietly to not disturb her and the Countess.

The Countess.

Now that was unexpected. She was known to frown heavily on fortune-tellers and magic-users, yet… yet she’d come to the shop for a reading. Not only that, she’d very much invited Emmie to the palace to be a guest for some sort of plan.

She gathered the deck back up and shuffled it as she thought, bringing them back to the counter.

It would be better for her to clean it before Asra got back. He’d forget, or-

“Odd hours for a shop to keep.”

She dropped the cards, ice sliding down her spine.

There was someone in the shop. A man, judging by the voice.

Emmie flickered her eyes to all the shadowy corners, slowly coming out from around the counter. She couldn’t see anyone-

“Behind you,” the voice said.

She whirled.

A particularly tall man was leaning casually against the counter. He wore an old white plague mask, complete with red lenses and a cowl around his neck to hide everything the mask didn’t. His heavy coat was buttoned up, hiding any potential weapons he could be carrying under it. The only thing she could tell about him was that he had a shock of dark red hair sticking up over the mask.

Her breath was stuck in her throat.

“Now, sources say this is the witch’s lair. So…” He pushed off the counter and moved closer. He moved as if he were made of liquid. “Who might you be?”

Emmie tried to find her voice and failed. So she instead listened to her instinct and grabbed whatever was closest to her, which happened to be a particularly old bottle of something, and chucked it at the stranger.

He batted it away like it was nothing.

She glanced at the door behind him.

He tutted. “Not so fast, Shopkeep.”

Emmie shot to the right, going for the back door instead. Adrenaline was pounding in her veins, no spell coming to mind-

His hand closed around her wrist, and he yanked her backwards.

Her feet nearly flew out from under her and she stumbled, her back against his chest. She looked up to see the mask’s curved beak angled down towards her as the man behind it stared at her. It was impossible to discern anything through the menacing red lenses.

“Tell me where he is and I’ll let you go.”

There was no way to tell if he was being truthful or not. For all Emmie knew, he was going to chop her up and eat her liver no matter what she said.

So she brought one boot up and stomped down as hard as she could on his foot.

“Gah!” He released her in surprise and she broke away.

His fingers caught her shawl and her let it slip away as she shot towards the back room. She just needed a way to-

The stranger had grabbed her by the belt this time. “You’re a slippery one.” Emmie tried to backhanded him, but only succeeded in making the mask crooked.

He pulled her back towards the counter as he removed it. He carefully set it down, still studying her.

Slowly recognition dawned on Emmie. The too-pale skin, the hair the color of dried blood. His intimidating height was what really gave who he was away. The only thing throwing her off was the eye patch, but it’d been years and losing an eye was probably the least of his worries.

“Oh you recognize me?” The expression on his face was anything but kind. “Then you know the trouble you’re in.”

He’d treated her for some throat infection, years ago- Nearly a decade ago when she’d first arrived in Vesuvia. He- He looked younger than Asra?

_I thought you’d be older._

Emmie squinted incredulously at him. “Doctor Jules?”

The sinister smirk slipped off his face at the name. “Haven’t heard that name in a while.” His grip on her loosened slightly before he remembered himself. “Quickly now, where is the witch?”

Hadn’t he been Asra’s friend back then? She’d been fourteen and shy, so perhaps her memory wasn’t right, but… Emmie could swear that he’d visited her master a lot. At least, until he stopped coming by suddenly when she was starting to get decent at basic spells.

Doctor Jules had to know that ‘witch’ was more an insult than accurate, too. That was common knowledge.

A frown twisted his lips as he leaned down to get in her face. “Where’s the witch?”

“I’ll never talk.”

His smirk returned. “Oh, you’ll _never_ talk? How many times have I heard that before?” His grin grew. “Never say never, Shopkeep.”

She stared back, forcing herself to not let any fear show.

Doctor Jules snorted softly and looked around the shop, taking everything in until his eyes landed on the tarot deck. “That’s what you use to tell fortunes, isn’t it?” He released her, mischief in his gaze. “Perhaps your cards can do the talking.”

Emmie was torn between running out the back door, or leaving the shop with him inside. Who knew what he would do to it?

He picked up the top card from the deck, not looking at it as he handed it to her. “Go on, don’t be shy.”

She was a little confused with his encouraging tone after he’d chased her around the shop and vaguely threatened her. Yet Emmie took the offered card and blinked in surprise.

It was everyone’s favorite card when they were trying to be dramatic. The card itself didn’t have any sort of literal relationship with its name. All it meant was something coming to an end. Not danger nor a crisis. That was the Tower card, yet everyone who fancied themselves a bit of a tarot reader mistook those meanings to apply to the particular card she held in her hand.

Emmie found her voice. “Death.”

“Death?” Doctor Jules repeated. “Death?!” He barked with uncontrollable laughter, propping himself up on the counter. “You’ve- You’ve got to be joking.”

She set the card on the counter for him to see.

He slapped the counter, the humor waning from his face. “No…” His gloved finger hovered over the skull, not quite touching it. “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away.”

It sounded like he was quoting something.

Emmie stayed silent. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do; he’d broken in and threatened her, chased her around the shop and hadn’t been afraid to get physical by grabbing her; but then he’d let her go and asked for her to tell his fortune.

It was all very confusing.

An ugly sneer crossed his face for a heartbeat. “She has no interest in an abomination like me.” Doctor Jules set the card back atop the pile before turning back to her. “You’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in on a secret.”

_I’ve been hospitable?_

Emmie glanced at the bottle she’d thrown at him. It hadn’t shattered, on account of it landing on a pile of cushions set aside to be re-stuffed. She looked back at him to find him now in the middle of the shop, picking up her fallen shawl.

“Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say he cares for you.” The doctor folded the shawl as he spoke. “But when he returns…” He traded the shawl with his mask for a place on the counter. “Seek me out.”

“Why would I?” Perhaps it was the Countess’ visit, or him being too confusing to figure out, but she felt bold enough to ask.

His eye met hers. “For your own sake. That creature is far more dangerous than you know.” He fixed his mask back on. “Well then. The hour is late, and I’m out of time.”

She trailed after him to the front door.

Doctor Jules paused, pulling up his scarf to completely hide his face. “Don’t let him fool you, Shopkeep.” He opened the door, and turned around with one foot on the stoop, the other still in the shop. “It’s Doctor Devorak. No one calls me Jules.”

“Doctor.” Emmie unceremoniously shoved the door shut, then stared through the peephole.

Doctor Devorak adjusted his coat before he stalked off into the fog, a shadow that disappeared after seconds.

She leaned against the door.

It’d been a long night. First Asra leaving her to deal with a customer that turned out to be the Countess, then Doctor Devorak breaking in, going from intimidating to oddly polite within minutes.

Emmie glanced at the little clock hanging by the door. “I need to pack,” she announced to the empty room.

No one responded.

Perfect. She was finally alone.

She picked up the thrown bottle and replaced it.

Packing could happen after a little nap.

* * *

 

Julian told his mind to shut up, and as per usual, it didn’t.

It was trying to figure out where he’d seen that Shopkeep before, but he couldn’t place. She was too meek to be a pirate, and definitely hadn’t been one of his patients during the Red Plague.

Maybe he’d ran into her in a market at some point.

He ducked under a low archway, knowing that the second step down was cracked and wobbly. Julian continued down the stairs to the city’s lower levels, where the buildings got older, got crumbly, and life in general got more exciting.

_Death. Ah, of course I’d get that card._

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He weaved through an alley filled with moldy old crates.

What he really needed was a stiff drink. Or three stiff drinks.

* * *

 

Asra sat on his beast, letting it plod along at it’s own prefered speed.

A small part of him wished he’d brought Faust; she at least kept thing interesting. And traveling slowly down the road was… well, it was Asra, his thoughts, and sand. Oh, and the beast, but he couldn’t very well talk to it and slow their pace anymore.

“What?”

He’d felt her presence growling slowly. Arsa looked over to see Emmie, translucent and shimmering, floating along beside him. She was staring at the dim horizon in fear.

Even in a dream, she would be able to see what was around them.

_Do you remember this? You can’t._

“Master, where are we?” Her voice sounded like it was underwater.

He shook his head. “I dare not tell you. If I did, you’d have to promise me never to seek this path. Not even I am such a hypocrite as that, Emmie.”

Her curls were floating around her head like a halo. She was staring at the black road like it was about to swallow her whole.

No, this dream of her’s had to end. She couldn’t stay here, even spiritually. He would have to banish her and find another way to stay in contact, if only to make sure she didn’t return like this.

But for now-

The beast yawned.

He would have to stop eventually; take a nap, eat, hydrate. Asra looked back over at Emmie. Her aura had shifted ever so slightly. It was brighter. Or maybe it was that she was floating against a backdrop of blackness.

“Soon there will be a crossroads.” The words fell out of his mouth. A fortune. How odd; he wasn’t even a Tarot card in his hand.

Her curls swirled around her as she turned to look at him, startled. “A crossroads? Where do they lead?”

He gathered his magic in his palm, ready to banish her spirit to not ever wander here without her body again. “Depends on which one you take. Now…” The spell left his palm, and she started to fade. “Rest.”


	2. In Which Emmie Makes her Way to the Palace

“I know, I know.”

The clock said it was almost dawn, but the light poking through the curtains told her that the clock was still slow.

Emmie went through her tiny closet again to make sure she had everything she needed packed. Dresses, shawls, stockings, nightgown- She still felt like she was forgetting something. Something important…

She turned back to her travel case. Everything was in there, even her nice shoes to wear around the palace.

No, she was still forgetting something, something-

Her familiar, Lacey the white dove, chirped from her perch on Emmie’s headboard, holding what she was forgetting her in beak.

A hair ribbon.

Emmie opened up her box of ribbons, decided against picking out colors, and dumped the entire thing atop her folded clothes. She snapped the case shut with an air of finality. It was time to head to the palace.

Lacey reluctantly gave up the ribbon she held and fluttered to Emmie’s shoulder. She inspected Emmie’s hair.

**_Nest?_ **

“Not right now. We’re about to leave.” She set her satchel and travel case by the shop door, pausing to wrap a light shawl around herself. It would be cold until the fog finally burned off. Emmie slung on her satchel.

Lacey squawked in distaste at being upset from her favorite shoulder. She aggressively landed atop Emmie’s awaiting sunhat and pecked at a little flower.

“Lacey,” Emmie warned.

The dove peered innocently at her over the brim of the hat. She let out a single coo.

Emmie pinned her sunhat into place, picked up her case, and stepped out of the shop, ready for a day’s walk to the palace. “Lacey, you can’t stay on the hat. Not in the market.”

**_I fly?_ **

“Yes, please. After the fog burns off.” Emmie paused at the door, a nagging feeling making her turn back to regard it.

_ I should lock the door. What if Doctor Devorak breaks in again and waits for Asra? _

She turned her key in the first lock, moved a fake knot of wood aside for the second lock, and then locked the third lock disguised as the knocker. Emmie was almost satisfied with it, but the key word was ‘almost’. She very well wasn’t going to leave the shop without knowing that any sneaky doctors couldn’t get in.

So Emmie pressed her knuckles against the door and cast a small but useful little charm. “Cross-me-not,” she whispered.

The grain of the wood glowed white for a second before the magic slid into the carved whorls Asra had set up for this very reason. The detailed designs slowly faded.

Anyone who tried to enter through the door would get knocked onto their rear every time they tried to open the door. Of course, the charm only worked if one was trying to get in, but Emmie wasn’t worried. It was very hard to exit when one couldn’t enter in the first place.

Satisfied that no doctor could get in, since the back door also had all of its locks in use, she picked up her case and turned towards the little alley shortcut to the market.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck.

Lacey shifted on her hat, enough that Emmie knew she sensed something too.

It was just past dawn, so the sunlight was starting to make its way over Vesuvia. The mist was glowing white, giving off the sensation of walking through clouds.

But what was definitely not glowing with early-morning sunlight was a very tall, very broad thing standing at the alley entrance.

Emmie took a step back, calculating how much longer it would take her to get to the palace if she went the proper way through the streets. No, she wanted to have a little extra time in case something happened, and something usually happened, so going through the alley would give her that extra time.

She fixed her hat and plastered on a brave face before she started at the alley.

As she got closer, details of the thing blocking her path became clearer.

First, it wasn’t a thing. He was a man, distinctively tall and built like he was made of bricks. Second, his exposed hands were covered in scars, but that was all she could see of him.

Everything else was hidden under furs and coarse cloth.

Lacey shifted again, and Emmie got the sense that her bird was currently sizing the man up.

_ Hold still, Lacey. _

Emmie couldn’t make out his face, but she could feel his eyes on her as she passed him. She was halfway down the alley when he spoke.

“You are in grave danger,” he rumbled.

She went still, looking sharply at his shadowy shape half-hidden by the fog.

“He will return uninvited. He will offer you a gift, when you need it most. Turn it away, or you will fall into his hand. Just like the rest of us.” There was a shuffling of chains and cloth as the dark shape slowly faded.

Emmie took a deep breath, realizing her grip on her travel case was making her knuckles white.

_ What- What in the world… _

She drew her shawl about her and continued down the alley, footsteps a little too rapid and her heart beating a little too fast.

* * *

 

Julian took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the marketplace. Sweet breads baking, candies being spun, spices, meat just being put over grills. The heavy marine layer had finally lifted, and he raised his face to the sunlight.

It was early enough that most of the stalls were still being set up by their respective owners. He wasn’t worried about being seen; he was in the far end of the market, by the path used to move livestock.

The wind changed directions, and he got a whiff of that livestock.

“Gah.” He covered his nose and turned away.

He’d enjoyed the market enough. It was time to get Mazelinka’s herbs.

Julian weaved through the growing crowd, sharp eye scanning for a particular stall where he’d fixed the owners’ son’s broken leg. They always gave him a discount.

He paused for a cart full of flowers to pass and froze.

The shopkeep from last night was standing at the other end of the market. She was dressed for a journey, travel case in one hand and wearing a hat adorned with flowers. And she was looking right at him.

Julian didn’t move.

It was hard to see her face from the distance, but she looking like she was squinting. She was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him.

He slipped alongside another cart of beer kegs to hide from her. Once he was around a corner, he peer around it to watch her.

She was still staring at where he’d been, blinking.

_ Can you not see that far? _

He filed that away to figure out later.

Something stole her attention. She turned away, smiling, as a boy on the verge of a growth spurt nearly tackled her with a hug. He had the same curly hair, only darker, and they shared the same short nose.

He sighed in relief. She hadn’t seen him, and wasn’t going to pursue him. He could get back to finding that stall for Mazelinka’s herbs.

* * *

 

Lacey had flown away the moment they’d entered the market. The first time Emmie had traveled with her, she hadn’t warned the dove that the market would be full of shiny things, strings, and ribbons. Lacey had helped herself to an exceptionally expensive pile of glittery things she found pretty.

Since then Lacey wasn’t technically allowed in the market unless she was in a birdcage or tethered like a hawk to Emmie. Neither of those were options Emmie was willing to entertain, so Lacey was relegated to flying over the market and observing discreetly from lantern strings. Sometimes she was able to sneak down gutters to help herself to snacks, but not often.

Emmie smiled up at the little white blob overhead that was her familiar.

**_Fly!_ **

_ Yes, go have some fun for a bit- _

She frowned mid-thought.

There was a dark figure, taller than the average person, in the market. Emmie squinted at the shape, but she couldn’t make anything out. They were too far away. It was just that the height and the dark clothing made her think of Doctor Devorak-

“Emmie!”

She turned and grinned as her brother almost knocked her over with a hug. “Hello to you, too, Charlie.” She looked over his head to see the baker watching them with twinkling eyes.

The baker lifted a hand in greeting. “Emmie! Have you eaten?”

She found herself being pulled into the massive booth by Charlie. “Not really-”

“I made one of the pumpkin loaves you like! It’s in the oven.” Her brother interrupted her as he dragged them around other apprentices kneading dough. “And Master Armin let me put in some chocolate chips and it’s probably almost done and-”

“Charlie, Charlie slow down-”

“And Master Armin let me start my own sourdough mixer so in a couple days I might try and- and-” He stopped mid-sentence. “Do you want some tea? It’s mint and I’m sure there’s some sugar around here if you want it and it’s really good and-” Charlie trailed off as he went searching through the booth.

The baker sighed. “He’s only a chatterbox when you’re here, you know. Can’t get him to string three words together otherwise.” He offered her a tin mug of tea and gestured to a little stool in the corner.

Emmie perched on the stool, blowing gently on the steaming tea. “I was like that when I was his age. When Asra made me his apprentice, I think I spoke more to his familiar than him.”

“And where is Arsa? Sleeping in?” The baker’s eyes twinkled.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, he’s on a journey.”

The baker nodded. “Ah. And where’s he off to this time?”

_ I- I don’t know. _

Emmie sipped her tea and shugged, forcing her worry down into a tight little ball in her gut. She watched Charlie head back towards them, a paper-wrapped something in his hands. Probably the pumpkin loaf.

“He didn’t tell you? How suspicious.” The baker helped himself to a mug of tea. “You’re telling me that rascal is keeping secrets from his prized pupil?”

“Who’s keeping secrets?” Charlie looked between the two of them.

“No one,” Emmie said. She gave the baker a look over her brother’s head. She didn’t need him to worry over nothing. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like what? I know you’re trying to not give anything away in front of me.” Charlie stared at her, irritated. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Boy, you’re twelve. You’re as much a kid as your sister isn’t.”

She shook her head. Perhaps it was time to stop sheltering Charlie.  When she was his age, she’d almost been thrown out on the streets for having magic. Emmie played with the mug in her hands before she spoke. “Master Asra went on a journey and didn’t tell me where he was your. Your master thinks it’s odd. And…” She felt the presence of the deck in her bag. “Asra was acting strange.”

Charlie made a face. “What’s new about that? His snake talks back to him.”

The baker nearly choked on his tea. “Charlie!”

“It’s true.”

The baker ran a hand down his face before turning his attention back to Emmie. “So he’s off on some mysterious journey. But what of your mysterious journey, I may ask?”

She open and shut her mouth, confused. “I’m not traveling anywhere.”

_ What mysterious journey? _

“Oh, trying to play it cool. There’s been whispers all morning, you know!” The baker grinned at her over his mug.

“Whispers of what?” Emmie wracked her brain, trying to figure out what they meant. Sure, she had a travel case at her feet, but she wasn’t going on some journey across the sea. Where did everyone think she was going?

The baker pretended to look disinterested as he studied his nails. “They say the Countess’s escort rode into the neighborhood around dawn.” He glanced up at her. “Word is she was wandering about like a lost lamb ‘til she found your door.”

Oh.

Charlie bounced on his toes. “Did you get to meet her? Is she really as pretty as they say?”

Emmie silently drained her tea. “I wouldn’t know.”

“C’mon Emmie.” He hung on her arm. “Please?”

She tried to hide her smile. “No.”

“Eeemmmmmmmmmmie.”

She handed the mug back to the baker while speaking to her brother. “If I tell you, you’ll tell all the other apprentices, who’ll tell their friends, who’ll tell their friends, and soon enough everyone and their cousin will know whether or not I could have possibly met the Countess.”

“I promise I’ll only tell-”

“No.” She checked her hat and tucked the pumpkin loaf into her bag. “I’ll see you next week for dinner.” Emmie pressed a kiss to Charlie’s hairline and hugged him. “Make sure to wear a clean shirt this time.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Only if you tell me about the Countess.”

“Hey!” The baker motioned to a table. “Get started on those sesame seed rolls, boy. And you.” He fixed Emmie with an amused smile. “Run along. Don’t keep the Countess waiting.”

Emmie ducked her head as she exited the booth, blinking in the sudden brightness.

It was later than she’d thought. And the baker’s words echoed in her ears.

_ Don’t keep the Countess waiting. _

She took off through the market, picking her way around carts and people. Vendors carrying boxes and yelling out what they were selling tried to catch her attention, but Emmie stepped smartly around them. Being late to the palace was not on her list of things to happen.

At the end of the market was the livestock pens and the streets used to move them.

Smaller stalls lined the shallow stone steps that led to other parts of the city.

Emmie picked her way up them, watching for any livestock droppings, lest she step in them. She wasn’t  paying attention to the small stalls until-

“Ack!” a voice cried out.

She’d walked into someone leaving a stall. Emmie was thrown off balance and teetered on the edge of the step, while the particular someone she’d walked into dropped a basket of fruit. Pomegranates spilled down the stairs.

Emmie steadied herself on a tent pole and winced. One of the pomegranates had just been trampled by an ox.

“Oh, perfect,” muttered the woman Emmie had walked into. “As if I wasn’t already late…” She had a head full of bright red hair tamed with a headband. Freckles covered every inch of exposed skin. She dropped into a crouch and started picking up the fruit, shoving it unceremoniously back into the basket.

Emmie ducked down to help. She snagged one pomegranate before a cartwheel could squash it, and handed it back to its owner.

She smiled in relief. “Oh, thank you, how sweet of you to help. And after I bumped into you in the first place.”

“Oh, no, not your fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Emmie scanned the wide steps for more fruit, but either the pomegranates were already flattened, or very deft at hiding.

“Well, I can’t thank you enough.” The woman offered Emmie a hand up. “Seriously, thank you. And I probably shouldn’t do this, but…” She cleaned off a pomegranate on her sleeve and offered it to Emmie. 

“For me?”

“Yes. Here, have it. For helping clumsy little me.” She smiled against and pressed the fruit into Emmie’s palm. “Take care.” She winked and melted back into the traffic.

Emmie stared down at the extremely expensive and rare fruit that was now in her palm. She had no idea how to eat a pomegranate. Part of her wanted to run after the stranger and give it back, but the rational side of her said that she’d wasted enough time and she really needed to get a move on if she wanted to make it to the palace before dark.

“That was Portia, you know,” a voice croaked.

She looked over to see the owner of one of the stalls, a fortune-teller no less, watching her.

The fortune-teller was of an indiscriminate age best described as ‘ancient’, wiry white hair half-hidden under a headscarf. Her skin was all wrinkles and liver spots, eyebrows nonexistent, and a pair of gold teeth shone in her smile. Only her eyes looked ageless; dark and knowing.

Emmie held her gaze and blindly tucked the pomegranate into her bag. Something about the fortune-teller’s look had her on edge. “Who?”

“She’s the Countess’s favorite. Favorite servant, that is.” Those dark eyes looked over Emmie, and she grinned widened to reveal a third gold tooth as Emmie pulled her shawl around herself. “As for you… you look like a wanderer, yes? Wouldn’t you like to hear what fortune the Fates have spun for you?” She gestured with a gnarled hand to her stall.

“No- No thank you, madame.” Emmie reached for her travel case and found her hand captured by the fortune-teller.

_ How did you move so fast? _

The fortune-teller leered at her palm. “Your fate will come to you either way. Isn’t it better to expect what will happen, yes?” She ran a finger over the lines on her palm. “A bright future awaits you. And love with a man you don’t expect.” Her smile faded as she continued. “Oh. Oh, child… Torment. You will be in pain repeatedly before you’re happy forever-”

“That’s enough.” Emmie mustered up the courage and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry to be rude, but I need to be somewhere.” She picked up her case and hurried along the steps, risking a look behind her.

The fortune-teller’s stall was gone; just an empty space between two other booths.

* * *

 

She was pretty sure she was a little sunburnt. Alright, very sunburnt; but  only on her forearms and face. Everything else had been shaded by her hat and shawl. Her hat would have protected her face, had Emmie not looked up every couple minutes to watch as the Palace’s towers got closer and closer with every step she climbed.

Which she certainly had done.

Now she was face-to-face with the Palace itself, and a horrendous mix of nerves and excitement was churning in her stomach.

Lacey was back on her hat, and hooted excitedly.

**_Big glitter!_ **

The Palace was, for lack of a more creative word, huge. Towers and spires with arching roofs made of gold shimmered in the setting sun. The walls were blindingly white, a colored splotch right in the middle made her guess that there was a stained glass window.

Emmie took a shaky breath and approached the massive iron gate.

“Who goes there?” a voice boomed out.

She scrambled back, startled, before she realized that there were a pair of guards watching her with interest. They’d blended into the pillars beside the gate. She cleared her throat. “I’m Emmie, a Magician. I’ve come at the request of the Countess.”

Lacey cooed her own introduction.

The guard on the left spoke. “Emmie?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The two guards traded a look.

The guard on the right frowned at her. “We have no knowledge of you.”

“Unless you know the code, you must leave at once.”

_ But- The Countess is expecting me- Lacey, hold still and stop moving, please. _

Emmie chewed on her thumbnail, thinking. The Countess didn’t strike her as the sort to play pranks, and it was entirely possible that somewhere along the chain of command that news of her arriving got lost.

But she didn’t want to disappoint the Countess. Or worse, have her think that she was a liar. What would that do to Asra’s reputation?

“I don’t know the code,” Emmie started. “But-”

“Unsurprising,” grumbled the right guard.

The left guard was kinder. “It’s four numbers, switched twice daily with the changing of the guard. Maybe you do know it and you simply didn’t know it was the code?”

The right guard rolled his eyes. “You’d have to be a very special guest of the Countess to know them.” He took in her dusty boots and wrinkled shawl, lip curling up in distaste. Even if he didn’t say the words aloud, it was clear that he’d meant for them to follow what he’d said. ‘And you’re not’.

“I don’t know the code,” Emmie repeated. “But the Countess-”

“Regrettable,” interrupted the right guard again.

Emmie decided he was rather rude. They both placed their hands on their swords, and she decided they were both rather intimidating as well. Lacey shifted her weight on Emmie’s hat, clucking.

_ Please don’t fly at them. _

The guard on the left spoke first. “If you leave now, we will spare you without consequence.”

“If you persist, we will slice you without remorse.” The right guard tapped his fingers on his hilt expectantly.

“Your choice.”

Emmie felt torn. The Countess had asked for her, specifically her, and Emmie didn’t want to incur her wrath; yet she couldn’t get past the guards. If it was a test, she’d certainly failed. So she took a step back, and another, and another-

“What is going on here?” The voice cut through the air, sharp with indignation. 

She whirled around, gripping her travel case with both hands.

The speaker was the woman from the market. What had the fortune-teller called her? It’d started with a- Portia. That was it. Portia had a now-full basket of pomegranates balanced on one hip, and pointed at Emmie with her free hand. “You!”

_ Me? _

Emmie wasn’t entirely sure what was going on anymore. Portia was the Countess’s servant, so maybe… “Miss Portia? I’m Emmie, the Magician the Countess sent for, and-”

“Do you know this miscreant, Portia?” The right guard interrupted her again.

Emmie nearly rounded on him, but he had a sword and she had… nothing remotely resembling a weapon. So she let her expression share her mood towards that particular guard.

Portia caught her look, and she turned a frightening glare onto the guard. “That miscreant is the Countess’s guest this evening. So you really might want to watch your tone.” Each word was sharper than the last, and the left guard winced.

It appeared that Portia was not someone to trifle with.

She turned back to Emmie, no trace of her sterner side apparent in her kind smile.

Emmie returned it nervously. If this was one of the Countess’s servants, then… what would the Countess truly be like if she was displeased?

Portia hefted the basket of fruit. “Please, let me soothe this insult and accompany you across the bridge. We’ll be arriving right on time.”

The guards, hearing her words, swung open the gates.

Emmie’s throat had gone dry. There was no turning back now. “Of course, Miss Portia.”

She laughed as they started over a bridge. “Just Portia, please.”

“Alright.” Emmie fell silent, peering over the edge of the bridge.

Beneath swirled the springwater that fed the city. It bubbled up, glimmering in the sunset and reflecting the orange sky. The water was silty at the edges since it hadn’t gone through the aqueduct yet, but it was still a sight to behold the massive spring-

_ What’s that? _

She leaned further over, looking at the odd transparent tube-like thing that was cutting through the water.

**_No like. Bad._ **

Lacey hunkered down into her hat.

“Something catch your eye?” Portia joined her at the railing, following Emmie’s gaze. She grinned. “Ah, do you like animals?”

The shifting on her hat told Emmie that Lacey had just puffed herself up importantly.

“I love animals.” Emmie watched the odd creature swim along, trying to figure out if it was going backwards or forwards. It slipped through the silt and slowly faded away.

Portia tool her arm to lead her back towards the Palace. “Oh, you do? How nice! You’ll definitely enjoy your stay here. The palace is home to all kinds of exotic pets. But you don’t want to get too friendly with that one.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s a vampire eel. Imported from faraway swamps. No eyes or ears, and we’ve had some sneak through the aqueduct gates and lost them in the city.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? A wild animal swimming through the city?”

“Well, unless you splash around, they won’t even both you. But you wouldn’t want to catch a bite.”

Emmie kept her smile polite. “I’m guessing it has something to do with ‘vampire’ being in the name?”

“Yep.” Portia hefted the pomegranate basket. “If they bite, they don’t stop drinking until the body is dry.”

She couldn’t stop the shiver than ran down her spine. “That’s horrible!”

“Only if you’re bitten.” Portia gave her a cheeky wink before she knocked on the front door. “We have arrived,” she added dramatically.

Emmie craned her head back to take in the bright white walls and golden roofs. Lacey squawked at the angle the hat was suddenly at and hopped up the brim to peer down at Emmie.

“Sorry,” she apologized to her familiar.

“For wha- Heavens, that’s a real bird!” Portia’s eyes were the size of saucers. “Sorry. I thought it was fake and just startled me.” She leaned in close, studying Lacey. “Has your bird got a name?”

“Lacey. She’s my famili-”

The door opened, and Emmie pulled inside the palace by Portia.

Even Lacey didn’t have a comment at how resplendent the front entrance way was.

Everything gleamed with polish and care. Chandeliers of gold hung overhead, candles burning cheerfully and casting a warm golden glow over everything. The walls, the floor, the ceilings; they were all made of marble and spotless.

Emmie, with Lacey still on her hat, followed Portia down a side hall.

A servant joined Portia, wearing a matching pale shirt.

“How are we doing on time?” she asked.

The servant smiled warmly. “Impeccable timing. The first course will be served shortly. Her ladyship is yet to descend.”

Portia sighed and handed off her basket of fruit. “Perfect. Run and tell the kitchen that our guest has arrived.”

As soon as the first servant disappeared, another arrived and walked alongside Emmie. “Your belongings, Magician?”

“My what?”

Portia turned back around to explain. “Your bags, hat, shawl. He’ll place them in your room for you so you’re not carrying them. Lacey can stay with you, if you’d like.”

**_I like._ **

The dove climbed down to Emmie’s shoulder once she’d passed her travel-worn shawl over to the servant. He took her hat and travel case, then paused, waiting for hr satchel.

“This stays with me.” She could sense Asra’s deck, and Emmie wasn’t about to let it out of her sight.

Portia nodded to the servant. He bowed and left them in the hallway. “Well, looks like we’ll be arriving right on time.” She started down the hallway again, pulling Emmie along. “Her ladyship will be joining us soon. I’ll show you to the dining room.”

Emmie’s mind tried to catch up to Portia’ words, and when it did, she sputtered. “Dining? As- As in me, dining? With the Countess?” She turned back around to see of the servant who’d taken her travel case was still in sight.

_ I’m not dressed to dine with the Countess! _

“What? Don’t tell me you thought we wouldn’t feed you!” She smiled kindly. “Don’t worry. You’re the guest of honor.”

“But- my dress-” It probably smelled like she’d walked through the livestock roads and sweated her way up a million stairs. That wasn’t even touching on her scuffed boots. She’d packed her nice shoes for a reason, and it certain wasn’t for them to stay in her case.

“Is very pretty.” Portia turned a corner. “You’ll be fine.”

**_See? Is pretty._ **

Lacey cooed and moved closer to Emmie’s face, bobbing her head to get a good look at Emmie before snatching one of her hair ribbons in her beak.

**_Nest?_ **

“No nesting, Lacey, not now.” Emmie gently pulled the ribbon from her beak and smoothed it back into her braided curls. “Alright. Dinner.”

Portia stopped at an impressively large door. It was made of dark wood and polished to thoroughly that it could be used as a mirror if one was desperate. She caught Emmie’s expression. “We’ll go in together, okay?”

Emmie nodded. “Okay.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Let’s go.”


End file.
